


outrun what you can't name

by doublejoint



Series: peachtober 2020 [4]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Established Relationship, KNBxNBA, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:08:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26827891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doublejoint/pseuds/doublejoint
Summary: "I feel like I’m running up against the same wall over and over."
Relationships: Himuro Tatsuya/Kagami Taiga
Series: peachtober 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1953295
Kudos: 4





	outrun what you can't name

**Author's Note:**

> #peachtober day 4: Fish
> 
> Happy 10/4 kagahimu!

The ball rolls off Taiga’s fingertips, and he catches it before it falls to the floor with an effortless flick of his wrist, another and the ball is spinning on one finger. Tricks he’d mastered in so much less time than Tatsuya, something that Tatsuya’s long past resenting, but that dredges up some sort of feeling, like scraping the residue from the bottom of a pan used for frying chicken. 

“Go again?” he says, glancing back at Tatsuya.

As if Tatsuya would say no.

They’re off, toe to toe, block to shot, steal to dribble, end to end, once more. Taiga has the ball; he muscles past Tatsuya but Tatsuya’s already back, the squeak of his shoes against the floor sharp in his ears. He raises his hand, not to really block anything but to buy time, and Taiga almost falls for it--he adjusts, but the shot he gets off wobbles before it gets close to the net, bounces off the base of the backboard and nearer to Tatsuya. Taiga must have been distracted; he’d seemed fine before; he hasn’t lost a step of speed.

Taiga steals the ball back, as if to prove it--but Tatsuya blocks his next shot cleanly, a hard smack of the ball on his palm.

* * *

“Do you think—” Taiga starts.

Tatsuya waits. Taiga twists his fork in his spaghetti, stabs a meatball, and shoves it into his mouth. Tatsuya sips his water and lets him gather his thoughts. Taiga’s been quiet all evening; there’s been something on his mind since they were on their way back from the gym and he’d nearly missed the exit off the freeway.

“Did I look off to you today?”

Anyone else, and even with the hesitation Tatsuya might jump to the conclusion that they’re fishing for compliments, even if his better nature told him that was probably not true. Not with Taiga--maybe Tatsuya’s just got an eye for his sincerity, or maybe he just knows Taiga’s a shitty liar and he’d never be so indirect. The question deserves consideration, so Tatsuya takes another bite of his own spaghetti, replaying the day.

He’d done better than usual against Taiga, and it definitely hadn’t been because Taiga was holding back, intentionally or not. He’d been giving as much as he could, and Tatsuya had gained more ground, taken and made more shots--he’d thought he was just having a good day, and he had felt pretty good, even before they’d actually gotten to the court. There was that missed shot, though, a couple of blocks he should have made, a couple of times that things had seemed off, but that he’d recovered so quickly from it had seemed like a flickering pixel on a screen, not worth digging into if Taiga didn’t want to talk about it.

“You seemed a little distracted towards the end. Did something feel off?”

“I don’t know,” Taiga says, rubbing his eyes. “Kind of? I just--I feel like I’m running up against the same wall over and over. You know?”

“Yeah,” says Tatsuya.

He feels that way all the time, even when he knows logically what he needs to improve on--doing it, getting there, is across a fuzzy void he can’t see. It’s not something he’d ever imagined Taiga feeling, not now, not when he’s got it all figured out even if he can’t explain it. 

“Is it something in particular?” 

Taiga shakes his head. “I’m not exactly sure.”

He taps the edge of his water glass with his thumb.

* * *

The next few days are more of the same, Taiga distracted and hesitant, Tatsuya unable to push him past it himself. Doing the same thing again and again and expecting different results--hadn’t someone famous said that was stupidity? Insanity? Both? It’s what Tatsuya himself has always done, to mixed results.

Maybe Taiga needs a different opponent, one whose game he doesn’t know inside out the way he knows Tatsuya’s, or one who’s just better than Tatsuya is--a few of Tatsuya’s teammates live or are staying in the area; he could call one of them over. Maybe that would let Tatsuya sit back and watch--maybe he should ask Alex. But it’s not something Tatsuya would want if he were in Taiga’s shoes; Taiga had told Tatsuya this in confidence. It’s something they need to struggle through on their own, together. Or until Taiga decides to open the circle wider.

Four days after that, Taiga wakes up early and they go running. Tatsuya feels slow and sluggish, his feet hitting the pavement far before his mind catches up to where he is, and Taiga runs farther and farther ahead of him. This isn’t like some weird, terrible metaphor for their skill levels; it’s Taiga outrunning the thing he can’t name that’s chasing him, and Tatsuya keeping the pace. They round a corner, ast a coffee shop that’s just opening up, figures moving behind the glass and bright fluorescent lights. Taiga stops at the end of the block, hands on his thighs, and Tatsuya slows his pace, breathing hard as he reaches him.

Taiga grabs his hand. The streetlight above them flickers off.

“Let’s go back and sleep?”

* * *

He’s thinking less intently, less anxiously, when they walk back; he must have figured it out. But Tatsuya will let Taiga keep it to himself--he’s itching to know, keeps looking over at Taiga when he doesn’t mean to, but it’s not something you can just ask. And it’s not like he’s hitting that same sort of wall; he’s not doing as well as he’d like but he’s making the small strides he’s learned to live with because he can’t just winnow himself down with misery over his lack of talent. 

He shoots free throws in the driveway while Taiga naps and the coffee brews. If Taiga can hear the sound of the ball on the asphalt or clanging against the hoop, or the sputters of the coffee maker, it doesn’t stop him from sleeping. White noise, or inaudible from the bedroom in the back of the house with the door shut.


End file.
